George Gordon Noel Byron

Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried?

Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried?

Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
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Once more upon the waters! yet once more!
And the waves bound beneath me as a steed
That knows his rider.

Right--that will do for the marines.

Right--that will do for the marines.

Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler,
And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.

Wives in their husbands' absences grow subtler,
And daughters sometimes run off with the butler.

A man must serve his time to every trade
Save censure--critics all are ready made.
Take hackney'd read more

A man must serve his time to every trade
Save censure--critics all are ready made.
Take hackney'd jokes from Miller, got by rote,
With just enough of learning to misquote;
A mind well skill'd to find or forge a fault;
A turn for punning, call it Attic salt;
To Jeffrey go, be silent and discreet,
His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet;
Fear not to lie, 'twill seem a lucky hit;
Shrink not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for wit;
Care not for feeling--pass your proper jest,
And stand a critic, hated yet caress'd.